There's talk here, there, and everywhere about "the pace of life", for lack of a better term. Generally, I don't join in the "how do you get it all done" discussions. I don't get it all done, so I assume nobody is asking me. *grin* This week, however, a few points have caught my attention, and I've been mulling. Lucky you.
The Europhiles, it seems, love to extol all the virtues of the pace of life in Europe, as opposed to the gawdawful speed with which we Americans devour our way through every. single. thing.
I've got to say, I don't get it.
Pace is, among other things, "The rate of speed at which a person, animal, or group walks or runs. The rate of speed at which an activity or movement proceeds."
Assuming we move on our own power, wouldn't this definition indicate that we, being the supposed "person, animal, or group", control our pace? We aren't pre-programmed automatons. We are beings capable of thinking, determining, and choosing. I've always thought so, at least to a large extent. Perhaps I'm off a bit. But perhaps it's a matter of priorities and goals. Where are you going? Why are you taking the path you're taking? What will you do when you get there? Who is going with you? Certainly, things such as food and shelter must be tended to, but beyond the basic necessities, it's all elective.
We once spent a wonderful weekend in Philadelphia with friends. We had a lovely time together, although none of us moved at the same pace. Some of them had flown in from out of state for a mom's weekend getaway, and so each moved at her own long-legged pace. (It probably felt good for them to stretch their legs and move faster than a speeding snail.) We drove up and, naturally, had all the children with us. We didn't have trouble keeping up with our friends, per se. We simply kept in our heads a general idea which direction they were heading and chose not to worry about keeping up. Our poor friends kept looking back to see what in the world was keeping us.
Sometimes it was a sewer grate, or leaves on the sidewalk. Occasionally, it was an inscription on a wall, a carving in a pillar, or the extra time it takes to walk single file along the planter curb. Nothing particularly spectacular, just a different pace.
It's okay. We'll meet up at the fire station. Or the restaurant. If we get too far off, we've got our cell phones to touch base. Pace is something you control. Or not.
If it's a group or activity that is proceeding too quickly, and causing us to feel harried and cranky with our fellow travelers, why not take a look at whether that particular group or activity is paced appropriately for us? I hate to sound trite (and yet, I'm going to do it, anyway), but we all have the same twenty-four hours in a day with which to accomplish the things we'd like to do, and the things which need to be done. Occasionally, the two intertwine beautifully and there is less need for intentional living. That is not always the case, however, and so we must take stock, pack (or re-pack) our bags, and set the pace.
Zorak, for example, would much rather work six months out of the year and spend the rest of the year exploring with the children and I. Since he has yet to convince his employer of the benefits of this plan, obvious as they may be to us, nor has he found another way to provide for his home and family as well as he can now, he has to determine the pace at which he'll live this life, and go from there. We aren't looking at a uniquely American dilemma. He'd have to make the same decision in Europe, Asia, or even Australia.
If we want more time to do things, or not do things, to savor things, or to inhale more-more-more, well, we must make time and do it. We must weigh the opportunity cost for our decisions. How will we spend our time, and what will we have to show for it? Chatchke and appointments and hissed cursewords as we punt everyone out the door twenty minutes late for everything? Memories, friendships, stories, thoughts? Creature comforts, soul comforts, dreamy smiles, from-the-gut laughter? Not everything is an either-or situation, but when it comes the pace we set, it is. Either we will go quickly or we will not. Encouragingly, we aren't locked into a set pace. We've been known to slow way down to prolong our enjoyment of the sunset on the riverbank, to stave off the bittersweet ending of a favorite book, to giggle like kids at the wonder of sunrise through freshly painted windows.
No, I haven't got all the answers. I've nowhere to keep them, even if I did. I understand that it's more common to bemoan something that's self-inflicted than to hike up the britches, tip the cap foreward, and do something wonderful about it. It's easier. The payoff, however, is exponentially larger for the added effort of setting our own paces.
In a delightfully-timed entry, MFS recently revisited her thoughts on making time. I particularly enjoy re-reading her no-nonsense list of ways to make it easier. They're all common sense suggestions, which makes them easy to forget, and worth remembering. Check it out if you're feeling overwhelmed, or perhaps would simply like to make time to get back to the good stuff. You know, at your own pace.
And always kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, August 10
Wednesday, August 9
Hey now, not so fast, folks!
Can you believe there are people who think it doesn't matter whether we articulate our thoughts clearly? Look at all the excitement I caused with just a couple of poorly-picked phrases. *grin* So, to answer the comments and emails, no.
What I meant (and evidently said very ambiguously), is that if someone(else) has a baby at some point that isn't during a traditional school break, and needs to know how to get back in the swing of things in, say, February, I can help with that one. And if some imaginary family, who-is-not-us, is moving, I'd be happy to share my mid-move sanity savers. But moving again? No. In the eight years since James was born, we have moved ten times. Statistically speaking, there's a good chance we've moved in any given month. I just pulled November out of my hat. It was something like one in the morning. So, for clarity's sake, here's a quick run-down:
Today was, I believe, the last of the Whatever Wednesdays at church. Pioneer Club begins again in September, and I'm... really not looking forward to it. I liked having our Wednesday activity in the middle of the afternoon. We enjoyed being home for supper, even moreso just being home before nine or ten o'clock on Wednesday evenings. It's been delightful to get to the library (although Grandma Joy did let me know that August and September are amnesty months for our little library, so enjoy!) and then toodle into town shortly after lunch. It was a good pace. But now we'll be going back to the six-thirty meeting time. After supper. After being away from Zorak all day. More time away. Supper apart as a family. Supper in the car. Ick. It's one thing if we're apart because his work calls him away, or because one of us is out saving the world. But this... this doesn't count.
That I should write this at all is somewhat ironic. You know, the "I just ate what" kind of painful irony that those who know and love you find hilarious. I had just drafted a bit last night in reply to the "pace of life" angst that seems to be spreading like a psychological virus this month. My basic point: we set the pace. Why set it, then bemoan it? Doesn't make sense. *ahem* Yes. Well, then. It's almost as if someone chooses to drive an hour each way, at the end of the day, in the middle of the week, to drag her children to a one-hour function. Shyah. What a maroon.
*sigh* Well, I still stand by what I never got around to posting in the first place. I'll see if I can run a quick spell-check on it in the morning, okay? Don't want to move too quickly and burn myself out tonight. *if only you could hear my eyes rolling all over the place...*
Thankfully, no matter how dumb we behave sometimes, our children love us. Our spouses love us. Our friends with the blackmail photo editing capabilities love us. We are fortunate, whether we're harried or peaceful.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
What I meant (and evidently said very ambiguously), is that if someone(else) has a baby at some point that isn't during a traditional school break, and needs to know how to get back in the swing of things in, say, February, I can help with that one. And if some imaginary family, who-is-not-us, is moving, I'd be happy to share my mid-move sanity savers. But moving again? No. In the eight years since James was born, we have moved ten times. Statistically speaking, there's a good chance we've moved in any given month. I just pulled November out of my hat. It was something like one in the morning. So, for clarity's sake, here's a quick run-down:
A) Not pregnant again. Still not out of the cards, but I'm not the one shuffling the deck, if ya know what I mean, so we'll see what happens.
B) Not moving again. At least not any time soon. We might like to retire to Tennessee. Or Wyoming. But for the forseeable future, we are putting down some deep, thick roots right here.
Today was, I believe, the last of the Whatever Wednesdays at church. Pioneer Club begins again in September, and I'm... really not looking forward to it. I liked having our Wednesday activity in the middle of the afternoon. We enjoyed being home for supper, even moreso just being home before nine or ten o'clock on Wednesday evenings. It's been delightful to get to the library (although Grandma Joy did let me know that August and September are amnesty months for our little library, so enjoy!) and then toodle into town shortly after lunch. It was a good pace. But now we'll be going back to the six-thirty meeting time. After supper. After being away from Zorak all day. More time away. Supper apart as a family. Supper in the car. Ick. It's one thing if we're apart because his work calls him away, or because one of us is out saving the world. But this... this doesn't count.
That I should write this at all is somewhat ironic. You know, the "I just ate what" kind of painful irony that those who know and love you find hilarious. I had just drafted a bit last night in reply to the "pace of life" angst that seems to be spreading like a psychological virus this month. My basic point: we set the pace. Why set it, then bemoan it? Doesn't make sense. *ahem* Yes. Well, then. It's almost as if someone chooses to drive an hour each way, at the end of the day, in the middle of the week, to drag her children to a one-hour function. Shyah. What a maroon.
*sigh* Well, I still stand by what I never got around to posting in the first place. I'll see if I can run a quick spell-check on it in the morning, okay? Don't want to move too quickly and burn myself out tonight. *if only you could hear my eyes rolling all over the place...*
Thankfully, no matter how dumb we behave sometimes, our children love us. Our spouses love us. Our friends with the blackmail photo editing capabilities love us. We are fortunate, whether we're harried or peaceful.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, August 8
Mish-Mash
Getting caught up over at Donna's last night, the older contingent of the house spent almost an hour trying to figure out if this guy influenced this guy, or vice versa, or if they were peers, or, or, or what... We were like kids on the debate team, preparing for an extemporaneous speech. (Which, yes, completely pegs me as a total geek, I know.) It took some doing to convince Ward that Donna's photo wasn't a Rockwell. They're that close.
The pupils aren't feeling well this morning. They weren't feeling well last night, as evidenced by the sniffly, snarfy, snuffling noises during reading time. The sad part is, these kids blow their noses like bulls crash through china shops, so I didn't recommend they go get the tissue box until I'd finished reading a chapter to them. The boogers will still be there when I'm done, but I can't hang in there long enough to read an entire chapter of anything, pausing for the blowing-of-the-noses. James has a dentist appointment at 2 something (might want to narrow that down a bit, yes?) and the smallish one is still sleeping, so I decided to treat the older boys to a morning movie. They're watching "Hoodwinked", and the laughter pealing from the living room is more fun than the movie itself. (I previewed it last night and giggled a lot - a good movie for the six and up crowd.)
I've been trying to read 1919 by John Dos Pasos. It gets weird and choppy and very difficult to care much about, then it gets mildly interesting for a few pages and drops back into lithium-induced choppiness. I think this will be one of those train wreck books that I finish simply because I have a slightly morbid sense of curiosity. Not one I'd recommend so far, in spite of the reviewers promises that I will "never look at The War the same again"... I'm thinkin' I'll never look at sailors the same again. And it's probably a good thing I'm already married to Zorak, or I might not look at him the same again. But so far, the "biting commentary" seems to be more focused on just how miserable one can make oneself by making bad choice after bad choice. We'll see how it goes.
So far, our curriculum choices have been winners. We've begun Apologia's "Exploring Creation through Astronomy", which is the only new program I've added. It's a bit pedantic in some areas, but that's where the beauty of having children who share my sense of humor comes in. In all, though, a well-done book, and I think we'll enjoy our year of exploring the skies.
Anybody else going to trade in their old copy of Famous Men of Rome for the new color version? I saw that offer and just about flipped. I'm not sure what to liken my excitement to, as I hate it when black and white movies get colorized, but this is different. I think. At least, it was to me. Now perhaps the boys won't spend so much time debating what color this or that would have been? I'm soooo trading mine in!
Ah, well, the movie is just about over. Time to enjoy the rest of the morning with the Littles.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The pupils aren't feeling well this morning. They weren't feeling well last night, as evidenced by the sniffly, snarfy, snuffling noises during reading time. The sad part is, these kids blow their noses like bulls crash through china shops, so I didn't recommend they go get the tissue box until I'd finished reading a chapter to them. The boogers will still be there when I'm done, but I can't hang in there long enough to read an entire chapter of anything, pausing for the blowing-of-the-noses. James has a dentist appointment at 2 something (might want to narrow that down a bit, yes?) and the smallish one is still sleeping, so I decided to treat the older boys to a morning movie. They're watching "Hoodwinked", and the laughter pealing from the living room is more fun than the movie itself. (I previewed it last night and giggled a lot - a good movie for the six and up crowd.)
I've been trying to read 1919 by John Dos Pasos. It gets weird and choppy and very difficult to care much about, then it gets mildly interesting for a few pages and drops back into lithium-induced choppiness. I think this will be one of those train wreck books that I finish simply because I have a slightly morbid sense of curiosity. Not one I'd recommend so far, in spite of the reviewers promises that I will "never look at The War the same again"... I'm thinkin' I'll never look at sailors the same again. And it's probably a good thing I'm already married to Zorak, or I might not look at him the same again. But so far, the "biting commentary" seems to be more focused on just how miserable one can make oneself by making bad choice after bad choice. We'll see how it goes.
So far, our curriculum choices have been winners. We've begun Apologia's "Exploring Creation through Astronomy", which is the only new program I've added. It's a bit pedantic in some areas, but that's where the beauty of having children who share my sense of humor comes in. In all, though, a well-done book, and I think we'll enjoy our year of exploring the skies.
Anybody else going to trade in their old copy of Famous Men of Rome for the new color version? I saw that offer and just about flipped. I'm not sure what to liken my excitement to, as I hate it when black and white movies get colorized, but this is different. I think. At least, it was to me. Now perhaps the boys won't spend so much time debating what color this or that would have been? I'm soooo trading mine in!
Ah, well, the movie is just about over. Time to enjoy the rest of the morning with the Littles.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, August 7
Earth is too small! Back to school.
We are fairly out of synch with the traditional "school year". A school calendar, for us, would be mostly a log of what the year looked like, rather than what it might/may/ought to/hopefully will look like. We go year-round, taking breaks when needed, but never really stopping or starting a year. The back-to-school sales always catch me off guard. When people begin posting questions here and there about the best way to start the school year, I'm usually stumped.
This isn't to say (in an exaggeratedly snooty accent), "OHHHHhhhhh, WE go year round so we NEVER have to deal with that." Oh, no. No, no. Ask me again in February, after yet another birth, or mid-November, after we've moved *again*, or sometime in the middle of April, between visits from family, and I've got ya covered. We can kick start like pros. It's just the "this is the start of the school year" tag line that causes me to trip over one of my left feet and look around to see if anybody actually saw that.
However, among the starts and stops, I've figured out a couple of things. During those late night gab sessions with good friends over curricula and reading lists, I've been given some real gems. Occasionally, as I talk to Zorak while he sleeps, we experience a stunning epiphany and make all manner of life-style-altering-really-big-adjustments. (Yes, "we". I poke him in the head when I need feedback. Whatever works, in a pinch.) Today, you get absolutely nothing deep, but hopefully something useful.
When I see questions that begin with, "I have everything planned for the first day of school..." I smile. I'm not mocking them. I'm mocking myself of four years ago. She was a funny, compulsive woman.
What I've learned since then: if you must plan it all out, write it in pencil. Lightly. Trust me.
When I read, "What can I do to make the first day of school special?" all I can think is, "Do you have a timer on your coffee pot? And a cattle prod? Perhaps a backup plan? And tell me you wrote your plan in pencil." Each day is going to be as special as we choose to make it, but there are definite phases to "special". It's easier when the children are younger and stickers make everything special. It's harder when they're old enough to know that you're not actually allowing them to "help" make cookies when you give them a bowl, a whisk and a tablespoon of flour to play with while you bake. Then it gets easier again when they can bake cookies on their own, and better yet when they surprise you with a clean kitchen. See, "special" is such a subjective term. Don't set yourself on fire in an attempt to make something spectacular. Not only will you set the bar way too high, but your insurance company is going to stop paying the burn center after three or four incidents.
What I've learned: concentrate on making bonds and memories; traditions will bloom from those roots.
"What am I missing?" Oh, my, you're missing a ton. We all are. Homeschool, public school, private school, highly paid live-in tutor - nobody can cover it all. There's simply no way to learn it all, not even if you give the little darlings a caffeine drip and run them like dogs 24/7.
What I've learned: It's better to ask yourself "what do I want them to take from this year", and then ask others how to flesh it out. There's just too much. But if you can get them moving, intertia kicks in and it gets easier.
And you know, out of three dozen balloons, we haven't any small enough to make Mercury, Earth, or Pluto. Our solar system is now flying around the living room and the rest of science will have to wait for smaller balloons. But that's okay - there's still plenty to learn, plenty to do. Thankfully, we have cookies to bake and I wrote the week's plan in pencil!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
This isn't to say (in an exaggeratedly snooty accent), "OHHHHhhhhh, WE go year round so we NEVER have to deal with that." Oh, no. No, no. Ask me again in February, after yet another birth, or mid-November, after we've moved *again*, or sometime in the middle of April, between visits from family, and I've got ya covered. We can kick start like pros. It's just the "this is the start of the school year" tag line that causes me to trip over one of my left feet and look around to see if anybody actually saw that.
However, among the starts and stops, I've figured out a couple of things. During those late night gab sessions with good friends over curricula and reading lists, I've been given some real gems. Occasionally, as I talk to Zorak while he sleeps, we experience a stunning epiphany and make all manner of life-style-altering-really-big-adjustments. (Yes, "we". I poke him in the head when I need feedback. Whatever works, in a pinch.) Today, you get absolutely nothing deep, but hopefully something useful.
When I see questions that begin with, "I have everything planned for the first day of school..." I smile. I'm not mocking them. I'm mocking myself of four years ago. She was a funny, compulsive woman.
What I've learned since then: if you must plan it all out, write it in pencil. Lightly. Trust me.
When I read, "What can I do to make the first day of school special?" all I can think is, "Do you have a timer on your coffee pot? And a cattle prod? Perhaps a backup plan? And tell me you wrote your plan in pencil." Each day is going to be as special as we choose to make it, but there are definite phases to "special". It's easier when the children are younger and stickers make everything special. It's harder when they're old enough to know that you're not actually allowing them to "help" make cookies when you give them a bowl, a whisk and a tablespoon of flour to play with while you bake. Then it gets easier again when they can bake cookies on their own, and better yet when they surprise you with a clean kitchen. See, "special" is such a subjective term. Don't set yourself on fire in an attempt to make something spectacular. Not only will you set the bar way too high, but your insurance company is going to stop paying the burn center after three or four incidents.
What I've learned: concentrate on making bonds and memories; traditions will bloom from those roots.
"What am I missing?" Oh, my, you're missing a ton. We all are. Homeschool, public school, private school, highly paid live-in tutor - nobody can cover it all. There's simply no way to learn it all, not even if you give the little darlings a caffeine drip and run them like dogs 24/7.
What I've learned: It's better to ask yourself "what do I want them to take from this year", and then ask others how to flesh it out. There's just too much. But if you can get them moving, intertia kicks in and it gets easier.
And you know, out of three dozen balloons, we haven't any small enough to make Mercury, Earth, or Pluto. Our solar system is now flying around the living room and the rest of science will have to wait for smaller balloons. But that's okay - there's still plenty to learn, plenty to do. Thankfully, we have cookies to bake and I wrote the week's plan in pencil!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
*gurgle* Going under for the third time
We've been without a computer since the last time I blogged. I hit "publish", and that was the last task I was able to accomplish. I would love to harp on the planned obsolescence of technology, but really, how much dust can you cram into a fan before it stops working altogether? *sheepish grin* It's up and limping along right now, but I'm going to have to go cannibalize a power supply from one of the old computers in the basement. Probably need yet another hard drive, too - it seems those things can only get so hot before bad things happen.
This past week has had me wandering about, absolutely awed that two fully functional adults can manage to drop the ball so incredibly often. It's just... well, stunning, really. I guess I should be glad Zorak and I are well-matched, but then I look at the children and feel I ought to just apologize now for the trouble they're going to have in the future. Pesky things like deadlines, appointments, renewing things on time... it's gonna be rough, because they didn't have even one parent from whom they might inherit some kind of propensity for juggling these tasks. There is no genetic foundation upon which to improve, folks. Our best hope is that they will find (and somehow attract) OCD-driven first child spouses who can help make up for this.
So, tags renewed, premiums paid up, checkbook balanced, groceries purchased, appts. made, yeah, yeah. Dull, dull stuff. But it's done. And I still get a thrill out of doing the laundry in a rain storm or late at night. Small bodies tucked under soft blankets let out contented sighs when we kiss their little brows. They'll bicker again tomorrow. We'll probably forget another deadline. But it's okay. We're together. Life is good.
Tons to blog, but it's late. It just felt good to get back online tonight. But the sun will be up soon, and with it, the small ones. So I'd best get going.
Kiss those babies
~Dy
This past week has had me wandering about, absolutely awed that two fully functional adults can manage to drop the ball so incredibly often. It's just... well, stunning, really. I guess I should be glad Zorak and I are well-matched, but then I look at the children and feel I ought to just apologize now for the trouble they're going to have in the future. Pesky things like deadlines, appointments, renewing things on time... it's gonna be rough, because they didn't have even one parent from whom they might inherit some kind of propensity for juggling these tasks. There is no genetic foundation upon which to improve, folks. Our best hope is that they will find (and somehow attract) OCD-driven first child spouses who can help make up for this.
So, tags renewed, premiums paid up, checkbook balanced, groceries purchased, appts. made, yeah, yeah. Dull, dull stuff. But it's done. And I still get a thrill out of doing the laundry in a rain storm or late at night. Small bodies tucked under soft blankets let out contented sighs when we kiss their little brows. They'll bicker again tomorrow. We'll probably forget another deadline. But it's okay. We're together. Life is good.
Tons to blog, but it's late. It just felt good to get back online tonight. But the sun will be up soon, and with it, the small ones. So I'd best get going.
Kiss those babies
~Dy
Friday, August 4
What A Weird Day
It began with a phone call from the sporting goods store and ended with a new bookkeeper. And not once did it slow down!
I'm not sure if I'm heebed over this or not, but I got a call from the lady at the sporting goods store, letting me know I'd left my keys there yesterday. OK, the call I appreciated... but how did she get my name and number? Books-A-Million! I have the little dodad card on my key ring. She called them, and they gave her my name AND phone number. Eeeesh. That's not sitting horribly well with me. My house key is on that ring. I don't know.
ANYway...
We veered precariously close to a unit study today. After we read a chapter from Little House, we made "lantern covers" like the ones Laura described. We don't have any tin, and I'm not up for open flames without another adult to call 911 if things get out of hand, but construction paper and flashlights work quite well when you are seven, six, and two-half.
Mr. Ward gave the boys a telescope this evening, as a kind of a combination birthday gift for them. It's pretty neat, and they are thrilled. They (ok, "we" - like I was going to miss out on playing with it!) got to view the moon tonight before bed. I don't think it really clicked with the boys as much as it will later, though, as all three of them were literally vibrating with energy most of the day. It was too hot to go out and dispel some of it, though, and so they vibrated their way through supper, showers, jammies, and the telescope action. I'm pretty sure if you listen closely, you can hear their little beds humming with the vibrations. (And Smidge is laying here, talking in his sleep, as I type.)
Tonight I fired our bookkeeper. Her method of filing left a lot to be desired, and although she works cheap, she was costing us a fortune in late fees and added stress. Fortunately (?), I am not only the personnel manager, but the personnel, as well. So at least I was able to get someone on the job immediately. ;-) I spent the last four hours sorting through the two milk crates, three cardboard boxes, and five grocery bags that have been our filing cabinet since, oh, well, from the looks of things, since we got to Alabama. *cringe* The current status isn't permanent, but at least everything's labled and in something mildly resembling order.
Ward also hooked up a wireless router to our computer. Nifty! Now, if I'm really, really good, maybe I could get a laptop to go with it? Nah, only five months 'til Christmas. Not gonna happen this year. BUT, we can now get the computer out of the nursery without having to futz with more wiring right-at-this-moment. Yay.
And, it seems my computer just did something very strange. I cannot get to the bubbles in the task bar at the bottom. Okay... probably a sign that it's time to go to bed and ignore the problem until it rectifies itself or completely knocks out the system, right? (And Zorak says I couldn't be an IT guy. Pffft. No sense of adventure in that one, I'll tell ya!)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I'm not sure if I'm heebed over this or not, but I got a call from the lady at the sporting goods store, letting me know I'd left my keys there yesterday. OK, the call I appreciated... but how did she get my name and number? Books-A-Million! I have the little dodad card on my key ring. She called them, and they gave her my name AND phone number. Eeeesh. That's not sitting horribly well with me. My house key is on that ring. I don't know.
ANYway...
We veered precariously close to a unit study today. After we read a chapter from Little House, we made "lantern covers" like the ones Laura described. We don't have any tin, and I'm not up for open flames without another adult to call 911 if things get out of hand, but construction paper and flashlights work quite well when you are seven, six, and two-half.
Mr. Ward gave the boys a telescope this evening, as a kind of a combination birthday gift for them. It's pretty neat, and they are thrilled. They (ok, "we" - like I was going to miss out on playing with it!) got to view the moon tonight before bed. I don't think it really clicked with the boys as much as it will later, though, as all three of them were literally vibrating with energy most of the day. It was too hot to go out and dispel some of it, though, and so they vibrated their way through supper, showers, jammies, and the telescope action. I'm pretty sure if you listen closely, you can hear their little beds humming with the vibrations. (And Smidge is laying here, talking in his sleep, as I type.)
Tonight I fired our bookkeeper. Her method of filing left a lot to be desired, and although she works cheap, she was costing us a fortune in late fees and added stress. Fortunately (?), I am not only the personnel manager, but the personnel, as well. So at least I was able to get someone on the job immediately. ;-) I spent the last four hours sorting through the two milk crates, three cardboard boxes, and five grocery bags that have been our filing cabinet since, oh, well, from the looks of things, since we got to Alabama. *cringe* The current status isn't permanent, but at least everything's labled and in something mildly resembling order.
Ward also hooked up a wireless router to our computer. Nifty! Now, if I'm really, really good, maybe I could get a laptop to go with it? Nah, only five months 'til Christmas. Not gonna happen this year. BUT, we can now get the computer out of the nursery without having to futz with more wiring right-at-this-moment. Yay.
And, it seems my computer just did something very strange. I cannot get to the bubbles in the task bar at the bottom. Okay... probably a sign that it's time to go to bed and ignore the problem until it rectifies itself or completely knocks out the system, right? (And Zorak says I couldn't be an IT guy. Pffft. No sense of adventure in that one, I'll tell ya!)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, August 2
Doctors and Tallies, and Clay, Oh my!
Well, first things first, we managed to get to the ENT's office on time, which is, in and of itself, a miracle. The nice lady at the pediatrician's office either doesn't know us very well, or doesn't like us much, because she scheduled our appointment for 8:15 this morning! Ay, carumba, mijos! I can't get to the car by 8:15... let alone into town, with everyone in tow. But we did it.
The ENT's office was, as usual, superb. Their audiologist, Miss Tammy, is a dream to work with. She's just fantastic with children, and thorough. As a matter of fact, she's so thorough that I started to panic a bit. When I was doing hearing tests, we didn't do a bone conduction test or masking unless there was severe loss and/or tinnitus. She did one on James, and my heart sank into my toes, passing my stomach on its way to my throat. I got everything crammed into my tonsils long enough to ask if she normally does that, and she said she does, unless a patient has absolutely perfect hearing, in which case, there's no point.
And with both boys, it seems, their hearing issues are purely selective. Yes, we have two fully functional little space cadets. They can hear us, they just don't care. Um, yeah, we're good with that.
The boys were so good for all the testing and beeping and waiting, the staff decided to shove all six of us in a 7'x8' room with only two chairs (one on wheels) for forty minutes, with no outside contact, just to see which of us would lose his or her mind first. Smidge went, and he went with flair - shirt pulled up over his head, finger up his nose, ricocheting off hard surfaces, giggling maniacally. It was fascinating, really. Our suspicions about the experiment were confirmed when the doctor suddenly appeared just as Zorak attempted to sneak out of the cubicle with two of the little ones. *poof* And, it's time to begin! Evil researchers.
The boys did their lessons this afternoon, since they were lucky to get their vitamins on the way out the door this morning. John's learning tally marks, and loving it. He'd do all the pages in a lesson in one sitting, if I'd let him. (But really, he does require prolonged practice to help lodge a little something here and there in his long-term memory.) James is ready to move on, and has clicked that as soon as he has mastered his facts (he's got the skills and formulas down pat, and is quick w/ the facts, but if you watch his eyes, you can see he doesn't own them yet), the math world is his to explore. So he's working hard to finish those. It didn't help (me) any that he looked at my math work this afternoon and said, "Oh! I know these. You'll love them. They're easy." *groan* He meant to be encouraging, and although it's just. not. I will take it that way.
We've got a boiled cabbage simmering on the stove. Forgot to buy rubber bands, so we'll have to do that tomorrow. Then we will have some great "school shirts" - Story Of The World-inspired tie-dyed t-shirts, made with the Phoenicians in mind! (And only a month after we'd covered the Phoenicians - not bad!)
I broke down and bought modeling clay the other day. No clue what I was thinking, as I hate that stuff more than play-doh and waterpaints. Possibly even more than I hate unit studies, really. They're the work of the devil, and they bring out the lowest form of communication in children: screeching. Followed closely by wailing, gnashing of teeth, and general whining. And that's from both me and the kids! But I've got it, now! Next year, I will purchase thirty tons of natural brown clay. There will be no colors, there will be no options. There will be no cute individual boxes. It will live in a vat in the basement, and there will be a place for each child to keep his unspoiled creations covered in dust for untold centuries, or until his brothers forget about it. Ta-da! Why didn't I think of that earlier?
Busy day tomorrow. It's hard to look productive on a regular basis, but we're almost good at it. There are times I feel like the boys look at each other and smile, not because of all we're accomplishing, but because they seem to know I don't know what I'm doing, and they're okay with that. They love me, anyway. And I love them - for that, and for many, many other reasons - their goofy grins, their deeply felt senses of justice and reason, their delightful math-is-done-yay drawings, their hugs, their ambushes from beneath the laundry pile. I love them, screeching clay blobs and all.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The ENT's office was, as usual, superb. Their audiologist, Miss Tammy, is a dream to work with. She's just fantastic with children, and thorough. As a matter of fact, she's so thorough that I started to panic a bit. When I was doing hearing tests, we didn't do a bone conduction test or masking unless there was severe loss and/or tinnitus. She did one on James, and my heart sank into my toes, passing my stomach on its way to my throat. I got everything crammed into my tonsils long enough to ask if she normally does that, and she said she does, unless a patient has absolutely perfect hearing, in which case, there's no point.
And with both boys, it seems, their hearing issues are purely selective. Yes, we have two fully functional little space cadets. They can hear us, they just don't care. Um, yeah, we're good with that.
The boys were so good for all the testing and beeping and waiting, the staff decided to shove all six of us in a 7'x8' room with only two chairs (one on wheels) for forty minutes, with no outside contact, just to see which of us would lose his or her mind first. Smidge went, and he went with flair - shirt pulled up over his head, finger up his nose, ricocheting off hard surfaces, giggling maniacally. It was fascinating, really. Our suspicions about the experiment were confirmed when the doctor suddenly appeared just as Zorak attempted to sneak out of the cubicle with two of the little ones. *poof* And, it's time to begin! Evil researchers.
The boys did their lessons this afternoon, since they were lucky to get their vitamins on the way out the door this morning. John's learning tally marks, and loving it. He'd do all the pages in a lesson in one sitting, if I'd let him. (But really, he does require prolonged practice to help lodge a little something here and there in his long-term memory.) James is ready to move on, and has clicked that as soon as he has mastered his facts (he's got the skills and formulas down pat, and is quick w/ the facts, but if you watch his eyes, you can see he doesn't own them yet), the math world is his to explore. So he's working hard to finish those. It didn't help (me) any that he looked at my math work this afternoon and said, "Oh! I know these. You'll love them. They're easy." *groan* He meant to be encouraging, and although it's just. not. I will take it that way.
We've got a boiled cabbage simmering on the stove. Forgot to buy rubber bands, so we'll have to do that tomorrow. Then we will have some great "school shirts" - Story Of The World-inspired tie-dyed t-shirts, made with the Phoenicians in mind! (And only a month after we'd covered the Phoenicians - not bad!)
I broke down and bought modeling clay the other day. No clue what I was thinking, as I hate that stuff more than play-doh and waterpaints. Possibly even more than I hate unit studies, really. They're the work of the devil, and they bring out the lowest form of communication in children: screeching. Followed closely by wailing, gnashing of teeth, and general whining. And that's from both me and the kids! But I've got it, now! Next year, I will purchase thirty tons of natural brown clay. There will be no colors, there will be no options. There will be no cute individual boxes. It will live in a vat in the basement, and there will be a place for each child to keep his unspoiled creations covered in dust for untold centuries, or until his brothers forget about it. Ta-da! Why didn't I think of that earlier?
Busy day tomorrow. It's hard to look productive on a regular basis, but we're almost good at it. There are times I feel like the boys look at each other and smile, not because of all we're accomplishing, but because they seem to know I don't know what I'm doing, and they're okay with that. They love me, anyway. And I love them - for that, and for many, many other reasons - their goofy grins, their deeply felt senses of justice and reason, their delightful math-is-done-yay drawings, their hugs, their ambushes from beneath the laundry pile. I love them, screeching clay blobs and all.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, July 31
Which is more challenging?
Keeping the small ones within arm's reach and quiet during church, or keeping Zorak from darting off on tangents unrelated while the kids and I are gone.
He did get a lot done this weekend. The master bath (The Bathroom at the Asylum, from the pictures) now has a dandy new sill plate, a reinforced joist or two, brand spankin' new boards spanning the joists, and a new subfloor. Oh, and a new, mold-resistant ceiling. It's nice not to have the Den of the Crypt Keeper lurking behind the bathroom door anymore.
I got the children's rooms somewhat resituated. The boys' room looks great. The nursery, well, we need to build another toy shelf for the nursery, and get some tubs for it. That'll help tremendously. Probably wouldn't hurt to move the computer out of there, too. Nothing says, "I care" quite like giving your toddler unrestricted access to the internet, eh?
Speaking of the toddler, he has discovered that he can say, "No" and mean it. That would work out nicely if he were being propositioned by drug dealing three-year olds. However, it seems that when one experiences a dearth of soul-maligning peers, any near parent will do quite nicely. This is when I remind myself that I have almost two decades with them... so, um, pace yourself, Dy.
We've been dealing tag-team with the moods of the older ones. They enjoyed their day of touching base with Daddy on Friday, but it wasn't quite enough for them to make it through a day of working on the house come Saturday. All three of them needed some extra lovin's. I tried Heidi's approach of swinging the children around to help defray the bad moods. They catch on quickly; all three promptly misbehaved, in the hope of getting a swing around the living room. Had to smack a couple of them into the furniture before they decided perhaps it's best to just go with ice cream and a story. (That wasn't on purpose -- they're heavy and I'm uncoordinated.) The positive attention does work wonders, and I thank you, Heidi, for your gentle and uplifting reminder. The kids thank you, too. Or, they will once their shins heal up.
We're all loving The Little House in the Big Woods. The boys love the adventure of it all, and I love that I don't feel I must stop every time a gun is mentioned to give them the, "this person has an agenda, has never fired a firearm, couldn't tell a .357 from a shotgun, and has no idea what she's talking about" speech. They're hoping to find a hollow tree to build a smoke house. Should make for a fun autumn!
This morning we are total slackers. It's after nine, and the older two just got up. Those were two tired little boys! (The Small One and Miss Emily were up this morning a little before four, and stayed up until nearly six. Come five-thirty or so, the idea of a live-in nanny sounded far more sensible than I would have believed!) And so, we're off for another day of learning and working, growing together, and enjoying this life we've been given.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
He did get a lot done this weekend. The master bath (The Bathroom at the Asylum, from the pictures) now has a dandy new sill plate, a reinforced joist or two, brand spankin' new boards spanning the joists, and a new subfloor. Oh, and a new, mold-resistant ceiling. It's nice not to have the Den of the Crypt Keeper lurking behind the bathroom door anymore.
I got the children's rooms somewhat resituated. The boys' room looks great. The nursery, well, we need to build another toy shelf for the nursery, and get some tubs for it. That'll help tremendously. Probably wouldn't hurt to move the computer out of there, too. Nothing says, "I care" quite like giving your toddler unrestricted access to the internet, eh?
Speaking of the toddler, he has discovered that he can say, "No" and mean it. That would work out nicely if he were being propositioned by drug dealing three-year olds. However, it seems that when one experiences a dearth of soul-maligning peers, any near parent will do quite nicely. This is when I remind myself that I have almost two decades with them... so, um, pace yourself, Dy.
We've been dealing tag-team with the moods of the older ones. They enjoyed their day of touching base with Daddy on Friday, but it wasn't quite enough for them to make it through a day of working on the house come Saturday. All three of them needed some extra lovin's. I tried Heidi's approach of swinging the children around to help defray the bad moods. They catch on quickly; all three promptly misbehaved, in the hope of getting a swing around the living room. Had to smack a couple of them into the furniture before they decided perhaps it's best to just go with ice cream and a story. (That wasn't on purpose -- they're heavy and I'm uncoordinated.) The positive attention does work wonders, and I thank you, Heidi, for your gentle and uplifting reminder. The kids thank you, too. Or, they will once their shins heal up.
We're all loving The Little House in the Big Woods. The boys love the adventure of it all, and I love that I don't feel I must stop every time a gun is mentioned to give them the, "this person has an agenda, has never fired a firearm, couldn't tell a .357 from a shotgun, and has no idea what she's talking about" speech. They're hoping to find a hollow tree to build a smoke house. Should make for a fun autumn!
This morning we are total slackers. It's after nine, and the older two just got up. Those were two tired little boys! (The Small One and Miss Emily were up this morning a little before four, and stayed up until nearly six. Come five-thirty or so, the idea of a live-in nanny sounded far more sensible than I would have believed!) And so, we're off for another day of learning and working, growing together, and enjoying this life we've been given.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, July 28
A Day of Nothing
What a delightful day we had! We'd planned to paint the bathroom door, sister the joists under the master bath, repair the sill plate in the master bath, and do a lot of trimwork. Instead, we packed up and went to play with friends! Can't beat that for a segue, eh?
The boys swam and played. Zorak came with us in a last minute twist that just made the boys' day. He took them out in a canoe and taught them how to work the oar. He went with each of them on a paddle boat. Each of the boys had some time with Dad, one-on-one, in which, for a time, each boy was the center of Zorak's attention. They soaked it up like only children do, and it was glorious to watch. I do mean glorious, too - better than sunset over the ocean, better than a snow storm as seen from inside a fully stocked cabin, and better, even, than a steak dinner after dragging your tired butt up out of the Grand Canyon after two harrowing weeks of hiking with total strangers. Truly beautiful.
And then, because children just don't have any sense at all, the boys picked Bubble Gum flavored ice cream at the market. This is why they cannot live on their own yet. Children have parents to guide them and help them make good choices. Sometimes, though, parents get to say, "Yeah, go for it. Just grab me some of the french vanilla while you're over there, okay?" And that's good, too.
After supper, I slipped out onto the porch and called Melissa. She was home! She was awake! Yay! I love talking to Melissa. Her children bolster my hope in the future. Her stories make me smile. And her appreciation of the absurd helps me feel normal. Or, at least she'll join me in laughing so hard at the things I find humorous. The only drawback to having Melissa as a friend is that she's so darned busy, we don't get to visit often enough. But when we do, we talk until one (or both) of our phones dies, and it's more than worth the lag time between visits. She's always a source of encouragement and wisdom. THANK YOU, Melissa!
And now, it's quiet. It's late. And I've got a door waiting for me in the morning. I'm going to go kiss my babies and get some zzzz's.
Dy, The Recalibrated One
The boys swam and played. Zorak came with us in a last minute twist that just made the boys' day. He took them out in a canoe and taught them how to work the oar. He went with each of them on a paddle boat. Each of the boys had some time with Dad, one-on-one, in which, for a time, each boy was the center of Zorak's attention. They soaked it up like only children do, and it was glorious to watch. I do mean glorious, too - better than sunset over the ocean, better than a snow storm as seen from inside a fully stocked cabin, and better, even, than a steak dinner after dragging your tired butt up out of the Grand Canyon after two harrowing weeks of hiking with total strangers. Truly beautiful.
And then, because children just don't have any sense at all, the boys picked Bubble Gum flavored ice cream at the market. This is why they cannot live on their own yet. Children have parents to guide them and help them make good choices. Sometimes, though, parents get to say, "Yeah, go for it. Just grab me some of the french vanilla while you're over there, okay?" And that's good, too.
After supper, I slipped out onto the porch and called Melissa. She was home! She was awake! Yay! I love talking to Melissa. Her children bolster my hope in the future. Her stories make me smile. And her appreciation of the absurd helps me feel normal. Or, at least she'll join me in laughing so hard at the things I find humorous. The only drawback to having Melissa as a friend is that she's so darned busy, we don't get to visit often enough. But when we do, we talk until one (or both) of our phones dies, and it's more than worth the lag time between visits. She's always a source of encouragement and wisdom. THANK YOU, Melissa!
And now, it's quiet. It's late. And I've got a door waiting for me in the morning. I'm going to go kiss my babies and get some zzzz's.
Dy, The Recalibrated One
Thursday, July 27
We Have A Four Bedroom Home!
It's official! As of tonight, all four bedrooms are fully functional and in use! It feels very good to stand on the front porch and peer into the guest room - all the way through to the bathroom (mmm, might want to get on it and install some curtains, there) - and it's all pretty paint and nice light fixtures! It feels somewhat unreal to walk the length of the hall and see that every room, save the stairwell to the basement, has been renovated. Just wait 'til they all have doors! he he
We now have, in no particular order, The Big Boys' room, for James and John and all the little, intricate things they've come to enjoy; The Master Bedroom, also known as Our Hidey Hole; The Nursery, for Smidge and Miss Emily - Smidge is currently passed out in there with a goofy grin on his face and a pile of his favorite books on the shelf beside his bed; The Guest Room, with a real guest bed and a full bookshelf.
The Master Bedroom, without the crib crammed into it, looks like a decent-sized room once again. It's going to take me three months to stop inching sideways along the length on my side of the bed!
The Boys' room looks downright spacious with the other child and a half out of there. Or rather, the stuff of a child and a half. The other half of Miss Emily's things still have that dejected, misplaced child-in-transit thing going over in our room.
Give me the weekend to get everything shifted around and presentable and I'll post pictures. :-)
Granted, we're still a one-bath household, but that'll come. Oh yes, that will come. Which reminds me, I need to go request the new IKEA catalog.
What FUN!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We now have, in no particular order, The Big Boys' room, for James and John and all the little, intricate things they've come to enjoy; The Master Bedroom, also known as Our Hidey Hole; The Nursery, for Smidge and Miss Emily - Smidge is currently passed out in there with a goofy grin on his face and a pile of his favorite books on the shelf beside his bed; The Guest Room, with a real guest bed and a full bookshelf.
The Master Bedroom, without the crib crammed into it, looks like a decent-sized room once again. It's going to take me three months to stop inching sideways along the length on my side of the bed!
The Boys' room looks downright spacious with the other child and a half out of there. Or rather, the stuff of a child and a half. The other half of Miss Emily's things still have that dejected, misplaced child-in-transit thing going over in our room.
Give me the weekend to get everything shifted around and presentable and I'll post pictures. :-)
Granted, we're still a one-bath household, but that'll come. Oh yes, that will come. Which reminds me, I need to go request the new IKEA catalog.
What FUN!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, July 25
Things I Learned Today
1) Men can be kinda weird.
Yesterday, I worked my tush off. What with the mowing and the loading and the hauling and the sorting and the cleaning and the teaching. Not to mention the sheer dehydration. I was so proud of all I'd done. (I even arranged the cooler on the porch for the guys to use as a beer cooler/coffee table - it was a neat idea.) When the guys got home, they said not one (unsolicited) word about all that shining Progress.
Today, I painted the guest room (yes, one room, and no trim - just ceiling and walls), and the way the talked about it, you'd have thought I'd built the Taj Mahal out of dixie cups and gold leaf. Truthfully, the first two times they commented on how hard I'd worked today, and how much I got done today, I didn't reply because I thought they were mocking me. They may have been... I'm not sure.
I don't get it.
2) It's hard to get yourself straightened out when you get up on the wrong side of the bed.
John woke up this morning just completely out of sorts. And somehow, he decided it was Smidge's fault. Oy vey! What a day! End of day report: they both survived and will try again tomorrow.
3) It's delightful to snuggle with the Littles.
I laid down with Miss Emily this afternoon so she could rest. Not long after we got settled, I heard the small, staccato tap of little round feet headed down the hallway, and in came Smidge. He sidled up to the bed and slipped in on the other side. Soon, they were both sound asleep and I laid there, holding my breath, whispering to myself, "Don't give in, Dy. If you fall asleep now, you won't budge til supper. Don't. Fall. Asleep."
That worked, but I did allow myself to relax for a bit to the hypnotic, rythmic sounds of deep Little One sleep. That's better than an hour of aroma therapy or a full day at the spa! Mmm, yummy stuff!
4) A breeze is a wonderful thing.
OK, didn't learn this today. Known it for years. Really missed having one today.
5) I am really very spoiled.
Today I had the pleasure of being read to by John while I painted; being protected from "bad mice" by Smidge (again, while I painted); playing with the "windy cave" James built in the boys' room; watching Miss Emily sit unassisted; hearing the joyful shout of "DAD!" as the boys realized he was home.
And those are just the highlights. There was more. Much more. And it was wonderful. How were you spoiled today? Or what did you learn? Or were you spoiled by what you learned? Whatever comes to mind. :-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Yesterday, I worked my tush off. What with the mowing and the loading and the hauling and the sorting and the cleaning and the teaching. Not to mention the sheer dehydration. I was so proud of all I'd done. (I even arranged the cooler on the porch for the guys to use as a beer cooler/coffee table - it was a neat idea.) When the guys got home, they said not one (unsolicited) word about all that shining Progress.
Today, I painted the guest room (yes, one room, and no trim - just ceiling and walls), and the way the talked about it, you'd have thought I'd built the Taj Mahal out of dixie cups and gold leaf. Truthfully, the first two times they commented on how hard I'd worked today, and how much I got done today, I didn't reply because I thought they were mocking me. They may have been... I'm not sure.
I don't get it.
2) It's hard to get yourself straightened out when you get up on the wrong side of the bed.
John woke up this morning just completely out of sorts. And somehow, he decided it was Smidge's fault. Oy vey! What a day! End of day report: they both survived and will try again tomorrow.
3) It's delightful to snuggle with the Littles.
I laid down with Miss Emily this afternoon so she could rest. Not long after we got settled, I heard the small, staccato tap of little round feet headed down the hallway, and in came Smidge. He sidled up to the bed and slipped in on the other side. Soon, they were both sound asleep and I laid there, holding my breath, whispering to myself, "Don't give in, Dy. If you fall asleep now, you won't budge til supper. Don't. Fall. Asleep."
That worked, but I did allow myself to relax for a bit to the hypnotic, rythmic sounds of deep Little One sleep. That's better than an hour of aroma therapy or a full day at the spa! Mmm, yummy stuff!
4) A breeze is a wonderful thing.
OK, didn't learn this today. Known it for years. Really missed having one today.
5) I am really very spoiled.
Today I had the pleasure of being read to by John while I painted; being protected from "bad mice" by Smidge (again, while I painted); playing with the "windy cave" James built in the boys' room; watching Miss Emily sit unassisted; hearing the joyful shout of "DAD!" as the boys realized he was home.
And those are just the highlights. There was more. Much more. And it was wonderful. How were you spoiled today? Or what did you learn? Or were you spoiled by what you learned? Whatever comes to mind. :-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
What Day Is This?
I'd make a truly deplorable farmer. Come to think of it, I'd have made a lousy Mayan, too. They'd have run me out of the village for my total disregard for all things chronological. I guess my best hope would have been that they'd keep me around as the village idiot. Which wouldn't necessarily have been all that bad, as it might have made me unfit for sacrifices to the gods. Always a plus.
We got so much accomplished yesterday that I just had to whip up a strawberry dacquari and sit on the clean, comfy porch to recover. The boys hung in there with me while we moved the wood pile off the porch (yeah, now that summer's half over and we're only going to have to move it back in a couple of months - that irony probably won't hit them for another couple of years, though). They played on the freshly mowed grass while I worked on the other stuff. Got about two acres mowed, and I vacillated between feeling quite good about not having a tractor mower because I was getting all kinds of wonderful exercize and fresh air, and thinking I'd rather get a tractor mower AND cough up the dough for a gym membership because at least at the gym, I'd be in a climate controlled environment while I worked out.
Never did get that room painted. I wonder how much of that had to do with the dacquari?
Anyway, this is the in-between period of life. This is the daily to and fro that lends itself to strong bonds, gentle memories, and really crappy blogging. This is the laundry list, and the laundry, but it must be done.
The boys have new binders, and this year I think I may have pulled it off! They have sections for reading, history, science, and memory work. I gave them composition books for their phonics, spelling, and copywork. They have binder pouches, each with their own markers, pencils, lead refills (because what kind of geeks would I be raising if they didn't have mechanical pencils?) Plus, there is hope they'll now quit stealing Zorak's. They have their own scissors (again, the hope for less theivery among the household supplies). In fact, they are now decked out for lessons like little kings. They decorated the subject dividers, and the images are hilarious. I'll have to see if my scanner still works and post some of them. It's fun to see how they view things, how they interpret subjects, and what the world looks like to them. With my scissors safely in my kitchen drawer, I've got to say the world looks pretty darned good to me, right now!
Miss Emily is just one big fat blob of happy. She's so... round. It's delightful. She squawks and squeals and makes all manner of ruckus. She has discovered depth, and knows that if she can't reach that tantalizing little object, she can dislocate her shoulders and other various limbs with one good lunge to get another inch or two of reach. She'd really like to crawl, but right now her butt's too heavy. She gets up and... thar she goes! But the idea is there, and that's what this life is built on: ideas and persistence. If we give her nothing else over the years, we will give her the motivation to be determined to reach her goals. What goals they may be, I have no idea (you should have seen the havoc that ensued upon checking the mouse traps yesterday!), but she will attain them, and she'll have plenty of laughter along the way.
This is good stuff.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We got so much accomplished yesterday that I just had to whip up a strawberry dacquari and sit on the clean, comfy porch to recover. The boys hung in there with me while we moved the wood pile off the porch (yeah, now that summer's half over and we're only going to have to move it back in a couple of months - that irony probably won't hit them for another couple of years, though). They played on the freshly mowed grass while I worked on the other stuff. Got about two acres mowed, and I vacillated between feeling quite good about not having a tractor mower because I was getting all kinds of wonderful exercize and fresh air, and thinking I'd rather get a tractor mower AND cough up the dough for a gym membership because at least at the gym, I'd be in a climate controlled environment while I worked out.
Never did get that room painted. I wonder how much of that had to do with the dacquari?
Anyway, this is the in-between period of life. This is the daily to and fro that lends itself to strong bonds, gentle memories, and really crappy blogging. This is the laundry list, and the laundry, but it must be done.
The boys have new binders, and this year I think I may have pulled it off! They have sections for reading, history, science, and memory work. I gave them composition books for their phonics, spelling, and copywork. They have binder pouches, each with their own markers, pencils, lead refills (because what kind of geeks would I be raising if they didn't have mechanical pencils?) Plus, there is hope they'll now quit stealing Zorak's. They have their own scissors (again, the hope for less theivery among the household supplies). In fact, they are now decked out for lessons like little kings. They decorated the subject dividers, and the images are hilarious. I'll have to see if my scanner still works and post some of them. It's fun to see how they view things, how they interpret subjects, and what the world looks like to them. With my scissors safely in my kitchen drawer, I've got to say the world looks pretty darned good to me, right now!
Miss Emily is just one big fat blob of happy. She's so... round. It's delightful. She squawks and squeals and makes all manner of ruckus. She has discovered depth, and knows that if she can't reach that tantalizing little object, she can dislocate her shoulders and other various limbs with one good lunge to get another inch or two of reach. She'd really like to crawl, but right now her butt's too heavy. She gets up and... thar she goes! But the idea is there, and that's what this life is built on: ideas and persistence. If we give her nothing else over the years, we will give her the motivation to be determined to reach her goals. What goals they may be, I have no idea (you should have seen the havoc that ensued upon checking the mouse traps yesterday!), but she will attain them, and she'll have plenty of laughter along the way.
This is good stuff.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, July 24
Dust Yourself Off...
OK, enough of that. A good night's rest, some curriculum planning (always seems to perk me right up, that), and a gung-ho morning have helped clear the cobwebs from my head. But you know, one of my biggest pet peeves is someone who will accept your hospitality, stay in your home, and then have the gall to lob insults at you from left field when nobody's looking. That's just plain cowardice, and if you're going to come stay at my house, I don't ask that you do my wash, or my dishes, or even take out the trash. But by God, I do expect you to be at least civil to me. Thhbbtth. (Had to get that off my chest.)
I'm reading Burl Ives' The Wayward Stranger's Diary - a delightful book of anecdotes as collected by Mr. Ives over the years. Makes for very easy bedtime (ok, two AM) reading, as the stories are fairly short. If I fall asleep mid-read, I don't have to go back forty pages the next day to figure out where I dropped off.
After a week of sweltering Southern Summer weather, it's been absolutely beautiful the last couple of days. Sadly, we're a little slow on the uptake and completely missed one full day of it because we never ventured out (it looked hot, okay?) Today, however, we've collected debris, mowed the front forty (er, patch, if I'm being honest), did a little math, and fixed a delicious breakfast. Oh, and tidied the house, read about the Barbary pirates, and decided we really deserve a trip to the corner gas station/market for a bug juice when we get more gas for the mower. No reason not to kill two birds and cook them up with one stone, right?
This afternoon, I hope to paint the guest room. The guys got it primed yesterday, with much ado. Still, it's primed. Yay.
Last night was almost fall weather. It didn't have the smell of fall, but it had the cool breeze, the rustling of leaves (in our case, the leaves from last fall, but still, they sounded nice). I got the back porch cleared off, and finally removed the electrical-wiring-as-clothes-line from the eaves. It still has a distinctly backwoods air to it, but it's much more roomy and inviting now. Just don't look up at the spikes protruding from the tin overhead, and you're good.
Okay, I hear fussing. Time to go play military dictator and irate peasants. Weeee!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I'm reading Burl Ives' The Wayward Stranger's Diary - a delightful book of anecdotes as collected by Mr. Ives over the years. Makes for very easy bedtime (ok, two AM) reading, as the stories are fairly short. If I fall asleep mid-read, I don't have to go back forty pages the next day to figure out where I dropped off.
After a week of sweltering Southern Summer weather, it's been absolutely beautiful the last couple of days. Sadly, we're a little slow on the uptake and completely missed one full day of it because we never ventured out (it looked hot, okay?) Today, however, we've collected debris, mowed the front forty (er, patch, if I'm being honest), did a little math, and fixed a delicious breakfast. Oh, and tidied the house, read about the Barbary pirates, and decided we really deserve a trip to the corner gas station/market for a bug juice when we get more gas for the mower. No reason not to kill two birds and cook them up with one stone, right?
This afternoon, I hope to paint the guest room. The guys got it primed yesterday, with much ado. Still, it's primed. Yay.
Last night was almost fall weather. It didn't have the smell of fall, but it had the cool breeze, the rustling of leaves (in our case, the leaves from last fall, but still, they sounded nice). I got the back porch cleared off, and finally removed the electrical-wiring-as-clothes-line from the eaves. It still has a distinctly backwoods air to it, but it's much more roomy and inviting now. Just don't look up at the spikes protruding from the tin overhead, and you're good.
Okay, I hear fussing. Time to go play military dictator and irate peasants. Weeee!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, July 23
If You Have Been Praying for Patience for me...
QUIT! Please, stop. Now.
*sigh*
That's all I can say here. I would rather wrestle a grizzly with my bare hands and just get it over with.
A Very Tired, Dy
*sigh*
That's all I can say here. I would rather wrestle a grizzly with my bare hands and just get it over with.
A Very Tired, Dy
Friday, July 21
General Day
We had our new patient visits for all three boys today. God bless any physician who is willing to schedule them all in tandem, on the same day, and in the same room. A pox on any physician who simply isn't that brave! If we mothers can manage it on our own (WHY didn't I ask Zorak to come? What was I thinking?) then so can they (and they have nurses for backup, too!) I do love our pediatrician.
We learned a few things today:
* John is terribly, completely, and utterly left-eye dominant. He is SO left-eye dominant that he tipped over twice while the nurse attempted to test his right eye. He was be fine with all the directions, right up to, "just look at the red dot"; then the head began to lean and swivel. You could see that left eye jockeying for position. I could have helped, if I hadn't been sitting behind her, laughing. He tried, though, for all he was worth, and finally succeeded in keeping his head mostly straight long enough for her to test his right eye. You could see the concentration in his face, though, and his little neck muscles strained and trembled with the effort. Both eyes are fine, although it's pretty obvious he has no intention of using that right eye, except in emergencies.
* Smidge will never volunteer to go first again. Ever. The boys each took turns going first for various bits of the visit: weigh-in, height, exam, talking with the doctor. Oh, this is easy! This is fun! The nurse comes in and asks, "OK, who wants to go first?" It's not his fault he didn't recognize the little alcohol swabs and plastic capped syringes. Smidge volunteered and hopped gleefully up onto the table. Two shots: polio and tetanus. HOLY CRAP, WOMAN!! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU!?!? Or, that's what he would have said if he'd thought of it.
In all, the boys all held out far better than I did at that age. We talked about FDR and rusted things. We talked about Smidge's duck band-aids (which turned out to be a bad choice, as it sent him off, muttering to himself and glaring at us all over again). And then, it was over. For me, it was delightfully wonderful to hear the doctor say, "It is up to you." I love that man.
* James has a referral to an ENT for a full audiology workup. I'm not in full panic mode, and we won't have any firm information until after the ENT visit, but it does look like there may be a few hurdles in his path. If there are, well, then it's our job to show him how to leap them. If there are, then that's that and we'll do what we can from here. It's not a big thing, in the grand scheme of things, as a friend said today. But you know, I'm going to go ahead and be sad. I'm going to have a little period of grief and fear for my child, who may be facing some really tough stuff ahead. That doesn't mean I'm throwing in the towel. And it doesn't mean he's any less capable of doing the things he loves to do. It simply means that, as every mother would, I am going to wish like hell that I could take his limitations on myself and leave him free to flourish. I'm going to stand at his bedside and let slip a tear or two for the inevitable pain and disappointment that all our children encounter in life - pain we just would rather they not ever encounter. But they do. And rather than your basic conditioning and running skills, we may have to teach him some leaping and vaulting skills, as well. And that's okay, too.
In all, though, the boys got clean bills of health. The doctor prescribed eye drops for James' EyeThing (yay!), and said that if he has another incident and the drops don't help, he will schedule an appointment with an allergist.
We came home, popped popcorn, watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factor, made milkshakes, and then read stories til our eyes watered. It was a good night. It was a good day. And tomorrow's Saturday! Yay!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We learned a few things today:
* John is terribly, completely, and utterly left-eye dominant. He is SO left-eye dominant that he tipped over twice while the nurse attempted to test his right eye. He was be fine with all the directions, right up to, "just look at the red dot"; then the head began to lean and swivel. You could see that left eye jockeying for position. I could have helped, if I hadn't been sitting behind her, laughing. He tried, though, for all he was worth, and finally succeeded in keeping his head mostly straight long enough for her to test his right eye. You could see the concentration in his face, though, and his little neck muscles strained and trembled with the effort. Both eyes are fine, although it's pretty obvious he has no intention of using that right eye, except in emergencies.
* Smidge will never volunteer to go first again. Ever. The boys each took turns going first for various bits of the visit: weigh-in, height, exam, talking with the doctor. Oh, this is easy! This is fun! The nurse comes in and asks, "OK, who wants to go first?" It's not his fault he didn't recognize the little alcohol swabs and plastic capped syringes. Smidge volunteered and hopped gleefully up onto the table. Two shots: polio and tetanus. HOLY CRAP, WOMAN!! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU!?!? Or, that's what he would have said if he'd thought of it.
In all, the boys all held out far better than I did at that age. We talked about FDR and rusted things. We talked about Smidge's duck band-aids (which turned out to be a bad choice, as it sent him off, muttering to himself and glaring at us all over again). And then, it was over. For me, it was delightfully wonderful to hear the doctor say, "It is up to you." I love that man.
* James has a referral to an ENT for a full audiology workup. I'm not in full panic mode, and we won't have any firm information until after the ENT visit, but it does look like there may be a few hurdles in his path. If there are, well, then it's our job to show him how to leap them. If there are, then that's that and we'll do what we can from here. It's not a big thing, in the grand scheme of things, as a friend said today. But you know, I'm going to go ahead and be sad. I'm going to have a little period of grief and fear for my child, who may be facing some really tough stuff ahead. That doesn't mean I'm throwing in the towel. And it doesn't mean he's any less capable of doing the things he loves to do. It simply means that, as every mother would, I am going to wish like hell that I could take his limitations on myself and leave him free to flourish. I'm going to stand at his bedside and let slip a tear or two for the inevitable pain and disappointment that all our children encounter in life - pain we just would rather they not ever encounter. But they do. And rather than your basic conditioning and running skills, we may have to teach him some leaping and vaulting skills, as well. And that's okay, too.
In all, though, the boys got clean bills of health. The doctor prescribed eye drops for James' EyeThing (yay!), and said that if he has another incident and the drops don't help, he will schedule an appointment with an allergist.
We came home, popped popcorn, watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factor, made milkshakes, and then read stories til our eyes watered. It was a good night. It was a good day. And tomorrow's Saturday! Yay!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, July 20
Do As I Say???
I work very hard to model the behavior I would like my children to embed in their delicate little psyches. My success at this endeavor will be weighed largely by how much of their savings goes toward therapy rather than college. However, in spite of my natural swaggering rhythm and rather tense facial expressions, I feel like I'm gaining ground in general. Sure, there are things that seem to hinder this process, but in general, they are delightful little boys who live for two things: the ultimate laugh, and to please us.
So today, when all three boys left their wee brains in their room as we headed out the door, I kept calm. I quietly nudged, whispered, guided and directed. This was modeling the behavior at its best, and by golly, it was good!
It was good for the first thirty, possibly forty incidents. Then I found my vocal chords tensing up a bit, and my lips began to do that weird terse, pokey thing they do when I'm trying very hard not to lay into someone. This is the second day in. a. row. that I've experienced the vocal constriction response, so you know, I was pretty primed.
But I ask you, how long does it take before one realizes that you do not STOP in certain places? You do not stop in the middle of a doorway. You do not stop in the middle of any heavily trodden egress. You do not stop in the narrow, crowded section of a grocery aisle. You do not stop in the middle of the crosswalk. You do not stop and loiter in the little entrance to the cashier's cubicle. There are places to "go" and there are places to "stop", and to be honest, they're all pretty well defined.
But, if the consistency of it all isn't a dead giveaway, how about the adults milling about, staring at you, mouthing words in that foreign language your mother swears you ought to know by now? The man said, "Excuse me, boys," but what, what is it that the boys heard? Their blank expressions gave me neither hint nor glimmer of an answer. *blink* *blink* More nudging, guiding, breathing deeply. We'll be okay if we can just get. to. the. car.
As the boys, in unison (the only time they do anything with a unanimous consensus), stopped directly in the middle of the exit doors at the market, I lost it. The pointy lips began flapping wildly as a stream of unintelligible words came frothing from my general direction. The jist of the lecture being that you know how to behave in public, and I know you know. There are simply some things you don't do, and while you DO know that, if you cannot figure out how to implement this information, then perhaps you need to stay home and I will run errands in the middle of the night, when your father can keep guard at the asylum. Sheesh, these are simple, common things, boys.
"Yes, ma'am." They piled into the Suburban while I, lips still flapping wildly (but really, was I ever talking to anyone but myself?) began to unload the cart into the back.
That's when I felt something on my shoulder. I shrugged, thinking it was just the post-partum mange. But still, something on my shoulder. Sort of tickling. So I looked down, and there, mere centimeters from my eyes, is a spider with a body the size of a US Quarter. Crawling ON my skin. Crawling TOWARD my face.
You know the liturgy of well-defined things you don't do in public? I broke every single one of them. And while I was there, cussing like a sailor, flailing madly and backing away from wherever the monster might be crouching after it's death-defying flicking from my body... I happened to catch a glimpse of something shiny out of the corner of my eye. And I looked up to see...
A man and his wife sitting in their car, in the driving lane, waiting patiently for the insane swearing woman to stop dancing in the lane so they could pass.
Um... yeah. Maybe it's best if we all stay home for a while?
Yeah, I kissed those babies. Very humbling, indeed.
~Dy
So today, when all three boys left their wee brains in their room as we headed out the door, I kept calm. I quietly nudged, whispered, guided and directed. This was modeling the behavior at its best, and by golly, it was good!
It was good for the first thirty, possibly forty incidents. Then I found my vocal chords tensing up a bit, and my lips began to do that weird terse, pokey thing they do when I'm trying very hard not to lay into someone. This is the second day in. a. row. that I've experienced the vocal constriction response, so you know, I was pretty primed.
But I ask you, how long does it take before one realizes that you do not STOP in certain places? You do not stop in the middle of a doorway. You do not stop in the middle of any heavily trodden egress. You do not stop in the narrow, crowded section of a grocery aisle. You do not stop in the middle of the crosswalk. You do not stop and loiter in the little entrance to the cashier's cubicle. There are places to "go" and there are places to "stop", and to be honest, they're all pretty well defined.
But, if the consistency of it all isn't a dead giveaway, how about the adults milling about, staring at you, mouthing words in that foreign language your mother swears you ought to know by now? The man said, "Excuse me, boys," but what, what is it that the boys heard? Their blank expressions gave me neither hint nor glimmer of an answer. *blink* *blink* More nudging, guiding, breathing deeply. We'll be okay if we can just get. to. the. car.
As the boys, in unison (the only time they do anything with a unanimous consensus), stopped directly in the middle of the exit doors at the market, I lost it. The pointy lips began flapping wildly as a stream of unintelligible words came frothing from my general direction. The jist of the lecture being that you know how to behave in public, and I know you know. There are simply some things you don't do, and while you DO know that, if you cannot figure out how to implement this information, then perhaps you need to stay home and I will run errands in the middle of the night, when your father can keep guard at the asylum. Sheesh, these are simple, common things, boys.
"Yes, ma'am." They piled into the Suburban while I, lips still flapping wildly (but really, was I ever talking to anyone but myself?) began to unload the cart into the back.
That's when I felt something on my shoulder. I shrugged, thinking it was just the post-partum mange. But still, something on my shoulder. Sort of tickling. So I looked down, and there, mere centimeters from my eyes, is a spider with a body the size of a US Quarter. Crawling ON my skin. Crawling TOWARD my face.
You know the liturgy of well-defined things you don't do in public? I broke every single one of them. And while I was there, cussing like a sailor, flailing madly and backing away from wherever the monster might be crouching after it's death-defying flicking from my body... I happened to catch a glimpse of something shiny out of the corner of my eye. And I looked up to see...
A man and his wife sitting in their car, in the driving lane, waiting patiently for the insane swearing woman to stop dancing in the lane so they could pass.
Um... yeah. Maybe it's best if we all stay home for a while?
Yeah, I kissed those babies. Very humbling, indeed.
~Dy
Wednesday, July 19
Forever Home Photos - The Living Room
The before photos have been lightened to show detail. It was actually quite a bit darker in there. The wall between the kitchen and living room came down, and that's now where the island is located. The changes opened the place quite nicely, but they also hogged out a lot of the actual "living room space". Then, in addition to moving the "dining room" into the other end of this room (it was originally one long stretch of living room, and the original dining room was what will one day be our school room/reading nook - it's the last room left to do), that left us with a very tiny space for a living room. That's when we started hearing voices, but that's another post.
This is the room as it appeared when we first looked at it. The long, scary hallway is to the left (that door's gone now, and it's just a hallway again). The kitchen/laundry space is to the right, on the other side of the built-in bookcase. That door against the back wall leads to steps that pretend to lead down to the back yard.
A basic shot from the entry, looking in. On the other side of that wall is the kitchen and the washer/dryer set up.
This wall came down pretty easily...
But then there was "the wall of fear", which also, incidentally, came down easily. But it wasn't such a warm and fuzzy feeling when it did. This is the back, exterior wall. The one that sits there, looking so innocent and solid in the first shot. We pulled the paneling and found this:
That is exterior brick peeking through, my friends! There's nothing there but snake sheds and a few unfortunate squirrel remains. Oh, and an old fireplace. (Remember the stove in the basement with the myriad pipes? They led to what was left of this chimney!)And just in case you need a closer look...
We rebuilt the wall, framing it out and jamming it into place. (See the pretty, new white wall there, on the right?) Then, since it was December and as you can see, there was no insulation, we brought up and installed the behemoth stove. The living room stayed like this for quite some time:
This is what nesting looks like when you're renovating. It's not a pretty sight, I know. But if you wanted to know how easy it is to texture walls, well, there ya go.
And now, the living room is about 85% finished.
The space above the back door will be trimmed with a rough hewn board, to give it a litle architectural interest, as well as delineating the change in "spaces": kitchen, living, dining. (We'll mirror that on the opposide doorway leading into the hall.) The door, painted. Eventually it'll be removed, and that opening will be widened to extend into a family room. The space is much easier to use now, and it acts as wonderful overflow seating when the kitchen fills up.
And this one, taken from the entry again. Look, Ma - No Wall! The picture's a bit fuzzy, but you can see the finished paint on the kitchen window. What a difference nice trim makes! Yes, it's frustrating, and yes, I will be complaining about it again in the near future. But when all is said and done, it is worth the effort.
Still a lot of work to do, but it's come a long way toward feeling like Home. Hopefully, I will be able to get the bedroom before and after shots posted before the end of the month. And someday, when we're old and decrepit, we may get to working on the exterior of the place!
Thanks for taking a look!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
This is the room as it appeared when we first looked at it. The long, scary hallway is to the left (that door's gone now, and it's just a hallway again). The kitchen/laundry space is to the right, on the other side of the built-in bookcase. That door against the back wall leads to steps that pretend to lead down to the back yard.
A basic shot from the entry, looking in. On the other side of that wall is the kitchen and the washer/dryer set up.
This wall came down pretty easily...
But then there was "the wall of fear", which also, incidentally, came down easily. But it wasn't such a warm and fuzzy feeling when it did. This is the back, exterior wall. The one that sits there, looking so innocent and solid in the first shot. We pulled the paneling and found this:
That is exterior brick peeking through, my friends! There's nothing there but snake sheds and a few unfortunate squirrel remains. Oh, and an old fireplace. (Remember the stove in the basement with the myriad pipes? They led to what was left of this chimney!)And just in case you need a closer look...
We rebuilt the wall, framing it out and jamming it into place. (See the pretty, new white wall there, on the right?) Then, since it was December and as you can see, there was no insulation, we brought up and installed the behemoth stove. The living room stayed like this for quite some time:
This is what nesting looks like when you're renovating. It's not a pretty sight, I know. But if you wanted to know how easy it is to texture walls, well, there ya go.
And now, the living room is about 85% finished.
The space above the back door will be trimmed with a rough hewn board, to give it a litle architectural interest, as well as delineating the change in "spaces": kitchen, living, dining. (We'll mirror that on the opposide doorway leading into the hall.) The door, painted. Eventually it'll be removed, and that opening will be widened to extend into a family room. The space is much easier to use now, and it acts as wonderful overflow seating when the kitchen fills up.
And this one, taken from the entry again. Look, Ma - No Wall! The picture's a bit fuzzy, but you can see the finished paint on the kitchen window. What a difference nice trim makes! Yes, it's frustrating, and yes, I will be complaining about it again in the near future. But when all is said and done, it is worth the effort.
Still a lot of work to do, but it's come a long way toward feeling like Home. Hopefully, I will be able to get the bedroom before and after shots posted before the end of the month. And someday, when we're old and decrepit, we may get to working on the exterior of the place!
Thanks for taking a look!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, July 18
Dining Room Photographs
Well, here it is, the dining room. This is, perhaps, my favorite room. Not that I'm knocking the bath, which was our first encouraging hint that we would not, contrary to our most terrifying nightmares, still be living in a half-baked shack for the rest of our natural lives. I still love the bath. But I really like my spring-grass green walls in the dining room now. It's about as far from the color of mold as you can get and still be green. This is the abridged version of the visuals, mostly because it's late and I haven't the mental integrity to come up with captions for all of the images that belong to this montage. (That, and I just don't want to relive it right now. I hope you understand.)
So, without further ado, I give you The Dining Room:
This was what it looked like when we bought it. Remember, that carpet is supposed to be platinum white, not, as mere visual input would indicate, taupe. Ew. Low ceilings - not much we can do about those. Light-sucking holes there at the end. And you can't see it in this photo, but everything was fuzzy and the smell - if I could somehow get the smell put into a scratch-n-sniff sticker and sent out for everyone to use as they read. Well, I wouldn't. That's just wrong.
And yet, we fell in love with the place... it still boggles the mind. So, we took to gutting it while the weather was still nice enough to keep the children outside. Here it is, as we rip out the walls.
And here, with the source of the smell, all piled up into one stench-filled pile. Have I mentioned that I hate carpet? I mean, I really, really hate carpet. At least, now I do.
I think it was about mid-November that we had the new subfloor in and Zorak found the table. We could allow the children inside the home, now. (Note how incredibly brown Smidge is, there in the middle. That's what happens when you live outside for two months. James is not brown because you must have pigmentation in order to turn brown and he, evidently, has none.) However, everybody can eat inside now! Yippee!
And then, *poof*, *poof*, *poof*, two Federal holidays and one additional child later, we finally have the dining room relatively finished. Still lacking a floor, trim, and a little detail work. But just look at the difference the paint made on those windows! (Imagine what they'll look like when I get around to cleaning the storm windows and screens.) This shot was taken from about the same place as the first image.
This next image is a slightly closer shot, to show off the two little photo-helpers who helped out. Also, to point out that when the dining table and that corner hutch are refinished, they'll be close to the same color as the curtain rod. (Zorak wants me to mention that he does know the rod needs to be trimmed, but that zany wife of his was literally jonesing to hang the curtains now-now-now when he brought the rod home. I've mentioned it.) Also, I'd like to mention that John dressed himself, and I had nothing to do with the sock selection for today. Thank you.
I'll post the living room shots in a separate post. It's late and I have a TON of sleep to catch up on. One of the wonderful things about photographs is that they can help you regain your perspective, and remember what you've done, and why. I think this is true of many things: loved ones, favorite places, and special times; the things and parts of our lives. There is so much beauty to soak up in each area of our lives, but sometimes we need a little reminder about the things that are beautiful. The things that motivate us. The progress we've made, and the growth we've experienced. So while the paint and the drywall and the safe wiring is one thing, I've got to say that this last picture is a better descriptor of what motivates us and makes us smile.
Kiss those babies! And thank you for sharing our Forever Home adventure with us.
~Dy
So, without further ado, I give you The Dining Room:
This was what it looked like when we bought it. Remember, that carpet is supposed to be platinum white, not, as mere visual input would indicate, taupe. Ew. Low ceilings - not much we can do about those. Light-sucking holes there at the end. And you can't see it in this photo, but everything was fuzzy and the smell - if I could somehow get the smell put into a scratch-n-sniff sticker and sent out for everyone to use as they read. Well, I wouldn't. That's just wrong.And yet, we fell in love with the place... it still boggles the mind. So, we took to gutting it while the weather was still nice enough to keep the children outside. Here it is, as we rip out the walls.
And here, with the source of the smell, all piled up into one stench-filled pile. Have I mentioned that I hate carpet? I mean, I really, really hate carpet. At least, now I do.
I think it was about mid-November that we had the new subfloor in and Zorak found the table. We could allow the children inside the home, now. (Note how incredibly brown Smidge is, there in the middle. That's what happens when you live outside for two months. James is not brown because you must have pigmentation in order to turn brown and he, evidently, has none.) However, everybody can eat inside now! Yippee!
And then, *poof*, *poof*, *poof*, two Federal holidays and one additional child later, we finally have the dining room relatively finished. Still lacking a floor, trim, and a little detail work. But just look at the difference the paint made on those windows! (Imagine what they'll look like when I get around to cleaning the storm windows and screens.) This shot was taken from about the same place as the first image.
This next image is a slightly closer shot, to show off the two little photo-helpers who helped out. Also, to point out that when the dining table and that corner hutch are refinished, they'll be close to the same color as the curtain rod. (Zorak wants me to mention that he does know the rod needs to be trimmed, but that zany wife of his was literally jonesing to hang the curtains now-now-now when he brought the rod home. I've mentioned it.) Also, I'd like to mention that John dressed himself, and I had nothing to do with the sock selection for today. Thank you.
I'll post the living room shots in a separate post. It's late and I have a TON of sleep to catch up on. One of the wonderful things about photographs is that they can help you regain your perspective, and remember what you've done, and why. I think this is true of many things: loved ones, favorite places, and special times; the things and parts of our lives. There is so much beauty to soak up in each area of our lives, but sometimes we need a little reminder about the things that are beautiful. The things that motivate us. The progress we've made, and the growth we've experienced. So while the paint and the drywall and the safe wiring is one thing, I've got to say that this last picture is a better descriptor of what motivates us and makes us smile.
Kiss those babies! And thank you for sharing our Forever Home adventure with us.
~Dy
Well, goodness.
I owe someone a "Thank You", but I don't know who!
Have y'all seen the Blogs of Beauty Awards? I've seen the logo around. You know, on other people's blogs. Very lovely, and pretty. They are like gentle paintings, or nice wall sconces - something I'd love to use to adorn my home (virtual or otherwise). But with the construction dust, the herding of cats, the mental exhaustion and the occasional drizzling sarcasm, (not to mention the fact that I don't think I've ever posted anything that really called for accompanying Scripture), I felt very confident that it would take, oh, someone else doing my blogging for me before Classic Adventures was ever mentioned in those circles. Well, then tonight I saw two links over here from over there. Hmmm, being the naturally curious creature I am, I popped over to see how on earth anyone could get here from there.
And there it was! Classic Adventures, nominated for best encourager (general) and best meet for a mocha. I didn't win in either category. Wasn't even a finalist. (The winners are some truly fine bloggers, by the way, and there are a number of great blogs in general. I found the site two hours ago and just got done cruising about!) But what a sweet delight to find our little spot mentioned.
So, to whomever nominated Classic Adventures, thank you! I'm glad you are encouraged here. (I also think it's totally cool that someone would like to meet me for a mocha! How'd you know I like chocolate? Or was it the caffeine?) And I do have one niggling little question - how'd you filter out the Nicene Creed thing? I can't remember mentioning it here, ever, and of course my latest reference to church included referring to our elders as the Spanish Inquisition (which is totally tongue in cheek - our elders are awesome, wonderful men!) Either way, thank you. I don't know who you are, but I hope you see this. You really made me smile this evening.
~Dy
Have y'all seen the Blogs of Beauty Awards? I've seen the logo around. You know, on other people's blogs. Very lovely, and pretty. They are like gentle paintings, or nice wall sconces - something I'd love to use to adorn my home (virtual or otherwise). But with the construction dust, the herding of cats, the mental exhaustion and the occasional drizzling sarcasm, (not to mention the fact that I don't think I've ever posted anything that really called for accompanying Scripture), I felt very confident that it would take, oh, someone else doing my blogging for me before Classic Adventures was ever mentioned in those circles. Well, then tonight I saw two links over here from over there. Hmmm, being the naturally curious creature I am, I popped over to see how on earth anyone could get here from there.
And there it was! Classic Adventures, nominated for best encourager (general) and best meet for a mocha. I didn't win in either category. Wasn't even a finalist. (The winners are some truly fine bloggers, by the way, and there are a number of great blogs in general. I found the site two hours ago and just got done cruising about!) But what a sweet delight to find our little spot mentioned.
So, to whomever nominated Classic Adventures, thank you! I'm glad you are encouraged here. (I also think it's totally cool that someone would like to meet me for a mocha! How'd you know I like chocolate? Or was it the caffeine?) And I do have one niggling little question - how'd you filter out the Nicene Creed thing? I can't remember mentioning it here, ever, and of course my latest reference to church included referring to our elders as the Spanish Inquisition (which is totally tongue in cheek - our elders are awesome, wonderful men!) Either way, thank you. I don't know who you are, but I hope you see this. You really made me smile this evening.
~Dy
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